


Making It Up As We Go (OLD)

by Romestarss



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Gen, M/M, Musical, Musical References, Theatre AU, highschool, i guess, let my children be happy pls, more to be added - Freeform, they're all geeks, they're in their highschools play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 17:13:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16978626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romestarss/pseuds/Romestarss
Summary: [REUPLOAD] (also this is really old and i've since redone the plot but idk if ill ever post the newest version)Evan is forced into joining tech crew for their highschool. While he's at it, the lead actress catches his attention and later his feelings. He didn't expect to gain anything through working for the musical, let alone friends. But Connor is there, working on the lighting and sound, Jared's just there, and the girl seems to be oblivious to his feelings. And yet, he's content with the whole situation./evan joins tech crew, connor lives, it's all amazing and sweet





	1. Lunch In The Choir Room

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's me, im reuploading this so sue me
> 
> anyways if i fucked up anywhere please let me know!!! also for future reference, imagine the characters as more closely resembling the tour cast than the broadway cast uwu
> 
> enjoy!!!

_ Auditions are coming! Sign up for a time slot after school, and see if you have what it takes to get a role in Mountain Laurel High’s production of- _

 

The boy stapled the packet, moving on to another stack of sign up papers for the musical.

 

The only thing that was on all of the drama students’ minds that fall was the fall play, or musical, or whatever the drama and choir teachers chose. It was one of the biggest events of the school year, and everyone in the music-related classes was excited and anxious for auditions, which were exactly a week from that day. Except for one drama student, who was stapling hastily copied scripts together in the musics room, alone.

 

Evan Hansen had gotten into drama by accident- while picking his electives, he had left a request slot blank, prompting the counselor’s elective algorithm or whatever to throw him into the first class that wasn’t full. Yes, he could act, and maybe even sing (although only in the shower), but he always seized up in fear the moment he made it out in front of people. He winced, thinking back to the horrible day when he had absolutely failed a presentation in a class and had ended up sprinting out of the room. 

 

However, he didn’t hate being in drama- the teacher, Ms. Smith, was understanding, and allowed him to basically be a teacher’s aide instead. He’d sew quick costumes, print out, sort, and staple scripts, and basically just hang around and watch the students practice _enunciating, Kate!_ And by now he had memorized how the teacher always reminded Markus that _excellent work on that spin but you need to get downstage BEFORE the eighth beat!_ Eventually he’d stay after school, helping Ms. Smith out with whatever she needed to get done that day.   
  
The classroom itself was large, with a small raised platform (or the pseudo-stage, as most people had nicknamed it) along one wall, choir risers along another. A piano stood towards the corner, and there was lots of floor space and a few shelves, the contents of which were mostly hats, scripts, and an abundance of colorful highlighters. The lack of desks gave students plenty of space to practice routines, and on certain days the drama class would head to the enormous auditorium to practice their improv performances.

 

Now that the auditions were coming up in only a few weeks for the after school play, he began spending his lunch period there, too; Ms. Smith had hundreds of papers on her desk, ranging from sketches, schedules, calendars, and licensing rights to patterns, signups, and permission slips. The choir teacher’s desk had suffered a similar fate. 

 

_ For teachers who have taught high school for years, you’d think they’d be a little more organized.  _ He thought to himself as he stapled scripts for the teacher. He had skipped lunch, opting instead to sit on the pseudo-stage in the room, sorting the pages one by one into their corresponding order, stapling them, and then stacking them in a messy pile to his left. A half eaten apple lay abandoned to his right.

 

_ 1, 2, 3, 4, staple, 1, 2, 3, 4, staple, 1, 2… 3, 4 staple-  _ the loop went on and on, though the cast on his arm made it slightly difficult. He had fallen out of a tree during a park ranger apprenticeship program that he had participated in. It wasn’t a big deal, and he didn’t  _ really  _ mind that no one had signed it. It looked clean and neat, although it was a harsh reminder of that day and how someone walked him to the administration office. He never found out who.

 

Working in the drama room was pleasant. It was nice to get away from his thoughts for a bit, to just be able to do something mindless and focus on it. It was like sewing for him.

 

Evan had been hand-stitching little projects for years. He had picked it up in FCS, in middle school, when they had made little plushies of elephants and whatever on the schools slow, fragile sewing machines. It was something he could do basically anywhere, anytime, and without anyone else. Sewing was the one thing in his life he could count on. In the midst of college essays, grades, and his nonexistent social status, sewing was the eye of the tornado. The calm in the storm.

 

The thing he mostly sewed were little pillows, plushes, and more. At home he used an ancient sewing machine (that had belonged to his mother before she gave it to him for his birthday) for neater stitches; At school, simply a needle and thread. Currently, he was making the stems for a few pumpkin plushes since autumn was approaching quickly. Though it was much harder to have his dominant hand in a cast and had to strain his arm to stitch at the right angle.

 

It was no surprise that he wasn't the only one to come around. There was one other student- another kid in his grade, who was slightly taller but just as quiet- who would help out as well. The kid had brown, messy hair, that fell over mostly to the right side of his face, giving off the illusion that he was trying very hard to hide from the rest of the world, and wore only dark colours. However, he was more recent only having started to show up during lunch and after school a few weeks ago. The two boys always sat across the room from each other, never sharing more than a “hi,” or a simple nod. It wasn't an awkward silence, though. 

 

Neither wanted to talk to the other, nor felt socially compelled to. At a glance, they were polar opposites.  And as far as Evan knew, it was the truth. Yet he couldn't help the feeling that he vaguely recognized the kid, but he brushed it off as just having seen him in the hallways or in some class that they shared.

 

He glanced up as someone entered the classroom. It was the tall kid. The mysterious boy’s eyes flickered to him and they met only momentarily before Evan looked back down to the papers in his lap, slightly embarrassed. Everytime he stumbled on a hallway, or walked into a classroom late, he reminded himself that it was natural that people instinctively would look up at the disturbance. This was a comfort to him, since being late to class was inevitable with three minute passing periods and classes that were across the school from each other. He thought back to this momentarily, wondering if the other kid knew.

 

_ Of course he doesn’t, who researches stuff like that to make themselves feel better? Oh, yeah, you.  _ Evan continued to staple the papers, and the silence in the room continued, only broken by Evan’s stacking and stapling and the other kid’s book. Neither wanting to talk to the other, they were barely aware of each others presence for another ten minutes or so.

 

More motion stirred at the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he recognized one of Ms. Smith’s dresses and yet again looked up. He subconsciously noticed that the other kid, who had prior to this had been simply sitting on the choir risers reading his book, had done the same. The teacher was unsurprisingly holding a stack of scripts for Cinderella and was muttering something that Evan couldn’t hear before she rendered the kids sitting on the classroom.

 

“Oh, hey boys. Another set of full scripts came in but we might end up fifty short, with the amount of people signing up. And I need to get tech and stage crew applications ready and extend the audition slots,” she spoke quickly, trying to mask the note of stress in her tone. Or maybe she was just trying to take less time talking and more time working on class curriculums and plans for the production. “Speaking of which, I have some favors to ask of you two.”   
  


Evan paused his paper stacking, familiar momentary anxiety settling in his chest before he hurriedly brushed it away. He tilted his head, prompting her to keep talking. He saw the other boy, who’s name he still didn’t know, cock an eyebrow.

 

“I’m in desperate need of some people to join tech crew now, ahead of time. You guys already help out so much, but Evan, we could use a student working on costumes and you’re excellent at sewing.” Evan couldn’t suppress a little prideful smile. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but if you know anyone-” He shook his head.

 

“No, um, it’s okay, Ms. Smith. I can do some sewing for the play, yeah, if you want I mean, I-” He made himself shut up. She smiled thankfully at him. 

 

“Perfect. Okay, so, Connor.” She turned towards the other kid- towards Connor. The nagging sensation that he knew him from somewhere was back, but he ignored it. “You’re good with light and sound tech, according to your mother, right?” She asked.

 

Connor scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Didn’t think Cynthia would tell you that much during a ten minute conference, but yeah. I can do lights and stuff. I guess.” He looked down, clearly uninterested. Ms. Smith didn't stop talking, however, not noticing his disinterest. Evan found this quite funny but managed to successfully suppress his laughter, only smiling.

 

“Perfect, we have our first audition a week from tomorrow, Evan, I need you to come look at the costume sketches with me and the choir teacher and other backstage crew members.” She continued to talk, although mainly to herself up until the bell released the students to head to homeroom.

 

“Oh, there's the bell. Goodbye boys, see you… Whichever class you have in here next!” Ms. Smith said, but Evan was already out the door as the Choir teacher entered to plan the next lesson with her. He opted to sling his bag over one shoulder, completely ignoring his mom's warnings and hunching over slightly to accommodate his laziness. In his haste to make it to homeroom before the next bell, he hadn't noticed Connor trailed close behind. He perked up, glancing over. To his surprise, or only took Connor a few strides to catch up to him. 

 

Evan was, by nature, a quick walker. Jared, being half a foot shorter and with much shorter legs, usually had to nearly run to keep up. 

 

“So, uh, since we're like, the only people in stage crew as of now, might as well know eachothers names.” He said, rather awkwardly with a nearly invisible hint of sarcasm (which Evan only noticed because it was the same thing that Jared always did). Their height difference became painfully visible. He was rarely shorter than someone, but Connor was probably the only student in the school who was slightly taller, and seemed to hold his head slightly tilted upward as he talked, which made him look all the more awkward. “So, I'm Connor. And you are… Evan? Right?” 

 

Evan nodded in confirmation, although he wasn't sure whether the motion was even visible with his bouncy pace. “Yeah, uh, that's me. So, you, uh learned?” He visibly winced at how the attempt at an icebreaker came out.

 

Connors expression was indifferent, but a flicker of shyness showed in his eyes for a minute. “Yeah, lame, isn’t it?” he deadpanned, but the tone of his voice was lighter than it had been with the teacher. Evan was caught off guard by the sudden change and almost tripped. Then again, he got caught off guard by everything.  _ Don't stutter, don't stutter, don't stutter-   _ “No. Lighting is cool? Yeah. I mean, I like trees and nature, so, uh, that's pretty sad,  _ uh _ , uncommon too.” He let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding as Connors expression returned to the neutral, amused one before.

 

“No, yeah, nice.” He laughed apologetically. “So, the dumbass administration tossed you into drama as well?” Evan nodded. 

 

“Unfortunately. Sort of. I mean, it worked out, right?” Connor raised an eyebrow, considering. 

 

“Yeah, I guess. It’s cool that you’re into trees. They’re all fucking… green and stuff.” The attempt was awkward, but he was sincerely trying to be nice. Evan couldn't help but smile. Usually by now, his anxiety would have hit him like a train and he would've been a nervous mess on the ground; but this hallway speedwalking conversation was going well. Then Connor stopped, and Evan slowed down, realising he was heading towards a different class. 

 

“Bye. See you at auditions!” Evan said, cringing inwardly at the cheesiness of that sentence. But Connor had swerved off anyways, and he didn’t know whether he had heard his statement or not.

 

He sighed, and continued on to his next class, to which he was almost late. But, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he previously knew Connor, although nothing he could think of would explain why or where from.


	2. Auditions and Mic Sets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> auditions have started!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi,,, sorry for two chapters at once but i needed to kick this fic off

“Stop- walking so- _fast_ ,” Jared huffed, running to keep up with the awkwardly tall Evan, who was lost in thought, and was speedalking home, almost running. It annoyed Jared beyond belief- _just slow down!_  
  
“Oh, sorry.” Evan said quietly, doing his best to slow his pace and tripping, which more or less ended with him laying on the ground, looking like a starfish. Once Evan proved that he was fine with an irritated huff, Jared laughed, lightheartedly.

 

“What’s on your mind? You’ve been zoning out since lunch.” he asked, helping Evan up. The lanky boy was prone to toppling over basically all the time- being skinny, tall, and awkward made for a bad combination. Evan smiled sheepishly for a moment before the pondering the answer. 

 

Finally, the boy came up with “Well, uhm, I talked to- you know that guy? Tallish, wears dark colors, our grade, what’s his name… uh…” he trailed off, biting his lip and trying to remember. Jared knew who he was talking about within moments- there were a few girls who fit the description, but only one guy who was both tall and edgy. 

 

“Connor Murphy? No way, what happened?” He asked. Evan seemed pretty relaxed, but whether that was just a facade or not, he couldn’t tell. “He didn’t hurt you, or anything?” He prompted, and Evan’s eyes widened.  
  
“No! No, it was fine. He was actually sort of nice? I mean, it’s just… surprising. Oh, and also I’m like, gonna be sewing for the play. Ms. Smith asked me to,” He told him, his tone changing at the end. The lanky boy was proud, though he wouldn’t admit it, but Jared saw right through him. That’s what happens when you hang out with someone for ages. He gave him a light punch in the arm, and Evan flinched out of surprise.

 

Jared laughed. “Nice,” he said, dragging out the ‘c’. “Remember me when you’re on tv doing an interview about whatever gay fashion show or whatever you won!” Jared teased. Evan only shifted his eyes, turning slightly pink, his smile weary but prominent on the usually uncomfortable face.

 

“It’s just, uh, he’s like, familiar? Like I feel like I’ve seen him outside of school somewhere.” He said, and Jared looked up at Evan, rolling his eyes, assuring him that it was just a mere coincidence.   
  


As they neared Jared’s house and Evan’s bus stop, he finally broke off, walking towards his house, leaving Evan standing awkwardly underneath the roof of a small bus stop shed that he was a little too tall for. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“What’s with you being nice all of a sudden?”  
  
Connor jumped at the voice. Prior to the interruption, he had been hunched over his desk, redrawing a hand over and over in frustration. His hand had silver streaks on it, a common occurrence, with him being left handed and all.  

 

He reached up, flicking his headphones (which were blasting probably the worst playlist to ever exist) down to his neck, and turned around to see his younger sister sitting on his bed.

  
“Why the fuck are you in my room?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her. She rolled her eyes, which were cold and guarded. If Connor tried, he could remember how they used to be when they went on road trips and were close as kid- bright, joyful, betraying all of her emotions. But now, around him, they were hurt, unreadable, straightforward.

 

“You answer first. You talked to that Evan kid, were you tormenting him?” She asked, her voice steady, unfazed by his remark. This time it was Connors turn to roll his eyes. 

 

“ _No,_ Zoe. As hard as it may be to believe, I’m not a total asshole to every poor kid who’s a nervous wreck. Besides, he’s that guy from the national park. You know the one, from like, July.” He huffed, turning back to his drawing, trying to draw a hand that actually looked like it was gripping a gun. Zoe was quiet.  
  
“Oh.” It seemed like she was about to apologize before she stood up and headed out of the room. He was about to pull his headphones back up before she spoke up again. “You should audition for Ms. Smith’s musical. She needs some actors who can actually… You know, dance.” She suggested, and Connor sat up straighter in surprise. He looked at her skeptically.

 

“Yeah, sure, we’ll give Connor fucking Murphy, the  _ school-shooter-looking-guy _ , a role in the schools play. Zoe, out of the two of us, you’re the one who should be auditioning.” He retorted, regretting how the tone of his voice had made it come out. But it was too late to take back the sentence.

 

“I mean, you’re good at singing. We’ve all heard you.” That also came out sarcastically.

 

Zoe’s blank expression dissipated into the usual one of disdain, and she strode out of his room without another word. He sighed, and glanced down to the paper. The figure was holding its arms out in a sign of defiance, a rose in one arm and a gun in the other. It was incredibly cheesy, he thought, but it was fitting for the character.

 

There was no possibility that he’d audition, however much he appreciated the sentiment on Zoe’s part. He truly hadn’t meant to snap at her, but who else was there to blame but himself?

 

And then there was the whole prospect of tech crew. Cynthia had apparently told the overly joyful teacher about his work for their old dance studios lighting technology. It was no big deal- he had simply regulated the sound for them after having barely learnt how to work them from the internet- out of pure boredom, he had googled tutorials and videos. 

 

It took a bit to get a feel for actually being at the sound  setup, but he had gotten the hang of it quite quickly, and covered for them until they could get an actual sound technician to come and do it better (and, probably, fix whatever he had fucked up in the process).

 

Being on tech crew would probably satisfy his parents more, and let him sit in the wings of the stage or back up by the lighting set up in the auditorium.    
  


His mind was settled, but he’d turn up to auditions, since Ms. SMith wanted him there anyways. He turned back to his paper and kept drawing.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Auditions were hanging over everyone’s heads during the 27th of August. The lesson plans scheduled for Drama class were ditched (by the students, at least) in favor of discussing the roles the students would audition for. 

 

Evan would be there, but only because Ms. Smith was making him go and it was better than sitting at home watching another documentary. The day so far was passing as usual- ace English, nearly cry over maths, sit through drama, lunch, and study hall, and finish the day by caring less about science. He couldn’t help but wonder if the tall boy-  _ Connor- _ would be there. Maybe it was the simple possibility of a friendship. He couldn’t help but think, if two people as different as him and Jared could be friends, why not him and Connor? If anything, it’d be easier considering they both had seemingly similar interests in terms of working backstage for theatre.

 

It was a mundane, tiring routine- as school was- but even he felt the excitement wafting off the huddle of students waiting outside the auditorium’s double doors. It was only 3:15, still light outside- but auditions would drag on until 6 at the least; and Evan would be there to stay, considering he had no ride home until then. 

 

Pulling a book out of his plain backpack, he took a seat on a bench outside. He began reading. It was a worn, hardcopy version of _The Graveyard Book_ retrieved from the free rack outside of the library _._ He was close to finishing it, and decided to take this opportunity to do so. Surprisingly, he had built up quite a collection of tattered books, collected at random intervals. Nearly every book that he owned was preowned.

 

A voice calling out his name caught his attention. He glanced up to see Ms. Smith poking her head out of the auditorium. She beckoned him over, and he stood up, leaving his black bag on the bench he had been sitting on. 

 

“Evan! I’m glad you came. Okay, so, I was just getting ready to start calling students in to audition.” She said, walking down the stairs. Evan followed, looking up at the stage. The stage was large, round, and surprisingly high quality for a high school’s stage. 

 

Just as most highschool stages were made, the front, round semicircle stage that jutted out past the curtains had removable panels so as to allow room for an orchestra to play below. The curtains fluttered slightly, eerily, the general stage lights on. He found himself staring, slightly mesmerized as Ms. Smith continued talking and he snapped out of it as he found himself not listening.

  
“...if you like.” She finished, looking at him expectantly. _Crap, I didn't hear a single thing she said. Uhhh…._  
  
“Uh, sorry, could you, um repeat that?” He forced out, shrinking back slightly. The teacher repeated her statement without a thought, making her to a row of chairs  
  
“You can go explore backstage while we audition, if you like.” He nodded awkwardly, going up a small flight of stairs and stepping past the curtains. 

 

While the stage with closed curtains was spectacular, he had not expected the rest of the stage to be so interesting. The backdrop curtains were pulled back, revealing the equipment, controls, and leftover set pieces from previous productions sitting against the wall. Between the backdrop curtains and the back wall there was about two and a half yards or so of space for actors to travel between the wings (which had doors of their own branching off into the school’s hallways).  It was slightly dusty, a little dark, but generally a calm environment. From the very back, the thick curtains blocked out the sounds of the nervous auditions on the stage almost completely. 

 

He was inspecting a wire which would be pulled to manually open the curtains when a voice alerted him from the other wing. 

 

“Hey, Hansen!” Evan jumped, abruptly turning around. The source of the voice was coming from Connor, the boy from last week.

 

They had talked in between. It wasn’t much, no more than quiet greetings, a few quips about each other’s books, the like. He hesitated, then tentatively took some steps towards the other. Apparently, Connor had been rifling through a cardboard box of microphone sets, scowling at the state of some of them.

 

“Hi, uh. How’re you?” Evan said, wincing at his tone of speech. Connor’s face was still neutral as he looked up at HIM.   
  
“Average at best. Have you seen the state of these? You’d think _someone_ would know how to fuckin’ treat mic sets.” He said, lifting up a thin microphone caked with what appeared to be green makeup. “Laurel High did _Shrek,_ what, three years ago?” 

 

Evan found himself laughing along as they untangled each mic and mic pack, attempting to decipher which performance these had been used at. Many of them were in pristine conditions, but horribly incorrectly stored. At one point, one smeared with glittery, purple nail polish, which had been tucked at the bottom corner of the box, showed up, prompting an incredibly pained expression from Connor.

 

“So you know about these? Uh, doing things with… mics and stuff?” Evan finally asked. Connor raised an eyebrow at the sentence structure, but nodded.

  
  


“Yeah. I don’t really have any friends or shit, and my parents wanted me to learn something, so I went online and googled something like ‘useful school hobbies’ or some shit and now I… know things, I guess.” He replied, wrapping a cord around his hand and putting it aside. 

 

Evan tilted his head, surprised. “Me too. I mean, I do the same thing. Well, with different subjects, evidently.” He shut himself up, reminding himself that  _ people get what you mean, don’t over-explain.  _ “It’s cool that you know though. I mean, I think they get someone who does microphone work for the school but evidently,” he gestured at the now neatly sorted microphones, “they don’t know what they’re doing, either.” Connor chuckled lightly. 

 

Then Ms. Smith called them out, noting that there were somethings she wanted them to look at. Connor quickly put the mics back in the box, although now that they were neatly wrapped and held together, it was much neater, and it was less likely that the next people to use them would have to untangle them.

 

Evan held behind for a minute, inspecting the lighting and taking note of the dust particle in the air. It was beautiful in it’s own weird, mesmerizing, stage type of way. Then he sighed, and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if y'all have any critiques or comments, just comment!! i'd love to hear the feedback!]
> 
>  
> 
> also the way the characters's depression and anxiety are based off my own so sorry if it's a bit weirdly written, there's not really a 'universal anxiety/depression thought process' so i'm cruising on my own

**Author's Note:**

> if u have any critiques or suggestions please comment!! thanks for reading!!!


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